Roman cleared his throat, leaning in slightly, his gaze fixed on her face as if searching for a tell. "Given your affinity for the dramatic and that silken voice... I started with the classics. Something elegant, perhaps a bit old-world. Vivienne?"
Violet let out a soft, melodic snort. "Vivienne? Roman, I'm a jazz singer who lives on coffee and sass, not a French socialite with a collection of decorative fans. Try again."
Roman didn't miss a beat, his smirk widening. "I thought as much. A bit too polished. So, I pivoted. Something with a bit more edge. A name for a woman who runs across the country because a car got a flat. Valentina?"
"Valentina," she repeated, tasting the name. She shook her head, her blonde hair catching the light. "Too spicy. It sounds like someone who carries a stiletto in her garter. While I appreciate the sentiment, it's not me. You're zero for two."
"Harsh critic," Roman remarked, though he seemed to be enjoying the game. He shifted his grip on her hand, his thumb pressing into her palm. "Alright, let's look at the softer side. The side that kisses five-year-olds on the head and drinks juice in a Victorian playhouse. Victoria?"
Violet groaned, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling of the SUV. "Victoria? That is the most 'billionaire's nanny' name you could have possibly picked. It's stiff, it's royal, and it's about as far from me as a cardboard box is from a palace. You're losing your touch, Roman. I thought you were a master of information."
"The information is currently biased by my proximity to the subject," he countered smoothly, his eyes dropping to her lips for a fleeting second before returning to hers. "It's hard to be objective when the subject is wearing velvet and looking at me like I'm an idiot. Let's go with something more... botanical. Violetta?"
"That's cheating! You just added two letters to the name I gave you," she teased, a genuine laugh bubbling up. "And no. It sounds like a brand of expensive artisanal soap. Try again, oh great titan of industry."
Roman let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through the seat. He seemed to be discarding names as quickly as she could reject them, his mind racing. "Fine. Something shorter. Punchy. Valerie?"
"Makes me sound like a cheerleader from 1985. Hard pass."
"Vanessa?"
"I knew a Vanessa once. She stole my lunch in the third grade. I can't be a Vanessa."
"Veronica?"
"Too much 'Archie Comics' energy," she shot back, her spirit visibly lifting as the game distracted her from the ache of the night. "You're really struggling here, Roman. I thought you'd have a list of ten names, cross-referenced by birth year and regional popularity."
Roman turned fully toward her, his large hand coming up to cup her jaw. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, his expression softening into something devastatingly intimate. The playfulness was still there, but it was underlined by a heat that made her breath hitch.
"I'm struggling," he admitted softly, "because no name I can find seems to encompass all of you. Every 'V' name in the book feels too small. They're either too soft or too hard, too plain or too ornate. You're a contradiction, Violet. You're a songbird in a storm, a fugitive in velvet, a nanny who talks back to the boss."
He leaned in, his forehead almost touching hers. "So, how about Vesper? It means evening star. It's mysterious, it's beautiful, and it only comes out when the world goes dark."
Violet stayed still, her heart thumping against the wall of her chest. For a moment, she actually considered it. It was a beautiful name, and the way he said it made her feel like she was exactly that- a star in his personal darkness. But she slowly shook her head, a soft sigh escaping her.
"It's beautiful, Roman," she whispered. "But no. Not Vesper."
"Then I'm out of guesses for tonight," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her mouth. "But the night is young, and I'm a very persistent man. I'll find it. Or I'll just keep calling you Violet until you forget the other one exists."
"You might be waiting a long time," she challenged, though her voice lacked any real bite.
"I've already told you," Roman said, his thumb tracing the line of her lower lip. "I have plenty of time. And I have a very comfortable house where you're going to stay until every one of those names is exhausted."
Violet leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut. The loss of her job at the Lily still hurt- a dull throb in the back of her mind, but as Roman pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her in the quiet of the car, she realized she wasn't as afraid as she should be. Silas had closed a door, but Roman had built her a fortress.
"You're a brute," she mumbled against his shoulder.
"And you're still a mystery," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "But you're my mystery."
As the SUV pulled through the gates of the estate, the light of the mansion glowing in the distance, Violet realized she had given him more than a name tonight.
She had given him her story, and in return, he was giving her a reason to stop running.
"Roman?" she said as the car came to a halt.
"Hmm?"
"You're zero for nine on the names. Just so we're keeping score."
Roman's laughter echoed in the quiet car, a warm, vibrant sound. "I'll get to ten by breakfast, Seraphina. Just you wait."
"Nope, not my name. But youre closer, it starts with a S," Violet smiled.
Roman paused, his foot hovering over the threshold of the grand foyer. He looked down at her, his eyebrows arching so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. "An S? You've let me exhaust the entire 'V' section of the dictionary, watching me flounder like a man overboard, and all this time the destination was in a completely different territory?"
Violet's laugh was bright and melodic, echoing off the marble floors. "I told you I wouldn't lie if you were right. I never said I'd give you the right starting line. You just assumed 'Violet' was a hint. It's a color, Roman. A mood. Not a roadmap."
"You are a devious woman," he grumbled, though the look in his eyes was anything but frustrated. He began cycling through his mental archives again- Sloane? Stella? Sienna?- the challenge fueling a fire that was becoming dangerously addicted to her games.
Before he could offer a new candidate, a small, thumping sound came from the top of the grand staircase. Adam appeared, looking like a disheveled little bird in his dinosaur pajamas, his eyes half-closed in a sleepy stupor. He tumbled down the last few steps, not with his usual grace, but with the swaying gait of a child who had woken up in a world he wasn't quite ready to face yet.
"Violet?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as he wandered toward them, his arms outstretched. He didn't even seem to see his father; he just navigated toward the scent of lavender and the soft rustle of purple velvet.
Violet immediately knelt, the heavy fabric of her dress fanning out around her like a pool of ink. She caught him as he tipped forward, tucking his small, warm body against her. "I'm here, bunny. We're both here."
Adam let out a long, shaky sigh, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "The house felt too big," he whispered.
Roman stood over them, his large hand coming down to rest on the back of Adam's head, his fingers grazing Violet's shoulder in the process. The "S" names were momentarily forgotten, replaced by a fierce, quiet pride. He looked at the two of them- his son and the woman who had brought light into a museum- and felt the final pieces of his resolve lock into place.
"Let's get him back to bed," Roman said softly, his gaze lingering on the way Violet held his son. "And tomorrow, S, we start the next round of the game."